ACTIONS TOWARDS FREEDOM

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ACTIONS TOWARDS FREEDOM

Theoretical and Practical Perspectives on Improvisation and Composition

A thesis submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

by

Andrew Hall

School of Arts Brunel University

September 2014!

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This thesis, and the accompanying portfolio of pieces, is concerned with investigat- ing practical and theoretical meeting points between improvisation and composition.

Such meeting points are evaluated alongside a consideration of ‘freedom’ in improvised music, for which a frame is drawn from George Lewis’s concepts of the ‘Afrological’

(placing emphasis on expression of the ‘self’) and ‘Eurological’ (in which the ‘self’ is explicitly avoided). It is suggested that a reconciliation of these two extremes might be found in a compositional ‘creative displacement’, which might change an improviser’s environment in unforeseen ways and thus stimulate explorations of expressive novelty.

Three different compositional approaches to ‘creative displacement’ are investigated:

through fixed notation, through electronic real-time notation, and through leadership in a workshop setting. In each case compositional experiments will be undertaken and documented, detailing the creation and realisation of the pieces included in the accompanying portfolio. A terminology for the theoretical consideration of these approaches will draw on theories of complex systems, the philosophy of Gilles Deleuze, and various socio-musicological models such as those of Steven Feld and Charles Keil.

Through an evaluation of the portfolio compositions in rehearsal and performance, this thesis will conclude that a reconciliation of Lewis’s ‘Afro’ and ‘Eurological’ can be found through the external application of limitations to improvisational creativity. Such constraints will be described as ‘creatively displacing’ if they provoke a performer towards an exploration of novel expressive approaches. In order to achieve this in practice, limitations must be carefully judged with regard to their degree of abstraction, the manner of their presentation and the nature of their notation; it will be suggested that the presence of a leader is vital in achieving this. These conclusions will lead to a question- ing of conventional ideas of improvisation and leadership, and suggest a re-evaluation of indeterminacy within notation.

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Acknowledgements

My heartfelt thanks goes to everybody who assisted and supported me in this research, not least my supervisors Peter Wiegold and Colin Riley. Additional thanks go to other staff at Brunel University, including (but not limited to) Frank Griffith, John Croft, Rus Nygård-Pearson and Graeme Shaw.

None of the music which appears in this portfolio would have been possible without some incredibly creative and generous musicians. These include Rich Perks and Tom Atherton, who played on almost everything in this thesis, and Josh Trotter, Phil Maguire and Eleanor Cully for the M-Word Engine recordings. In addition, thanks must go to the other attendees of the vLookup ensemble workshops and recording sessions, including Letty Stott, Violeta Barrena, Nick Jones, Cameron Graham, Kate Shortt, Charlotte Dennis, Al Lyle, Dom Faber and Martino Scovacricchi.

Thanks to everyone who has played with the Mirrors of Hall: Rich Low, Tom Jack- son, Tommy Andrews, Sam Braysher, Rob Milne, David Turay, Hywel Carver, Andrew Linham, Joe Browne, Paul Taylor, Alex Paxton, Raph Clarkson, Mitch Mitcham, Daniel Chadwick, Nathan Hamer, Patrick Kenny, Tom Green, Chris Caulfield, Sam Warner, Geoff Bartholomew, Pete Martin, Rob Cossins, Charlie Blake, Matt Birch, Alex Hamil- ton, AJ Chandrasena, Andrew Robb, Peter Mannion, Ed Babar, Tom Marlow and Rob Brockway.

Particular thanks to Jaya Carrier for enabling the Rutlish School band collaboration which continues to this day, and to Michael Stinton and Nigel Somerville for doing the same at Abingdon School.

Finally, thanks to my parents for making this all possible. Most of all, for putting up with all my moaning and self-doubt, this thesis is dedicated to Helen.

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1 Introduction: The Case for Intervention 6

1.1 Introduction . . . . 6

1.2 Afrological Improvisation . . . . 8

1.3 Eurological Improvisation . . . . 9

1.4 The Problem of ‘Freedom’ . . . 10

1.5 Another Approach: Creative Displacement . . . 13

2 Displacement Through Composition 16 2.1 Non-Linear Dynamic Systems and Self Organisation . . . 16

2.1.1 Introduction . . . 16

2.1.2 Systems, Complexity and Chaos . . . 19

2.1.3 Self-Organisation . . . 24

2.1.4 The Implications for Freely Improvised Music of a Comparison with Complex Systems . . . 30

2.2 The Mirrors of Hall Big Band and Self-Organisation . . . 32

2.2.1 The Band and its Research Objective . . . 32

2.2.2 The Extended Rhythm Section . . . 32

2.2.3 The Composition of Backings . . . 33

2.2.4 Results in Early Rehearsals . . . 37

2.3 A Critique of Self-Organisation . . . 42

2.3.1 Attractors in Phase Space . . . 42

2.3.2 The Eurological Problem in Self-Organising Improvisation . . . 45 2

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2.4 The Mirrors of Hall Big Band: Later Work . . . 47

2.4.1 Displacement through Limitation . . . 47

2.4.2 A New Sobriety: ‘The Calcium in their Bones’ . . . 50

2.4.3 ‘The Calcium in their Bones’ in Performance . . . 54

2.5 Conclusion . . . 61

3 Displacement through Technology 63 3.1 The Philosophy of Gilles Deleuze . . . 63

3.1.1 Introduction . . . 63

3.1.2 The ‘Body without Organs’ . . . 65

3.1.3 The Refrain and (De)Territorialisation . . . 66

3.2 Replicable Indeterminacy: The M-Word Engine . . . 68

3.2.1 ‘Nomadism’ . . . 68

3.2.2 Indeterminacy and Real-time Scores . . . 71

3.2.3 The Development of the M-Word Engine . . . 73

3.3 Metaphor and Abstraction . . . 76

3.3.1 The ‘Figurative’, ‘Figural’ and ‘Abstract’ . . . 76

3.3.2 Metaphor . . . 79

3.4 Performing with the M-Word Engine . . . 82

3.4.1 Early Tests . . . 82

3.4.2 Electronic Leadership, Randomness and Abstraction . . . 87

3.4.3 The Electronic Improviser . . . 89

3.5 Composing for the M-Word Engine . . . 91

3.5.1 Complex Structures: ‘Three Lorenz Perspectives’ . . . 96

3.5.2 Recording and Potential Technical Issues . . . 101

4 Displacement through Leadership 106 4.1 Leadership and Difference . . . 108

4.1.1 Experiencing Difference . . . 108

4.1.2 Entrainment and the Hypothetical Unison . . . 110

4.1.3 Difference and Risk . . . 114

4.1.4 Responsibility and Authority . . . 118

4.2 Leadership and Metaphor: Miles Davis and Peter Wiegold . . . 120

4.2.1 Miles Davis . . . 121

4.2.2 Peter Wiegold . . . 122

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4.3.1 The Abingdon School Lower School Orchestra: ‘The Planets Re-

visited’ . . . 127

4.3.2 The Rutlish School Band: ‘The Lord of the Flies’ and ‘The Inter- national Project’ . . . 130

5 Conclusion 143 5.1 Summary . . . 143

5.2 Freedom and Constraint . . . 146

5.3 The ‘Completeness’ of Notation . . . 147

5.4 Displacements across Age Groups and Settings . . . 148

5.5 Degrees of ‘Nomadism’ . . . 149

5.6 Future Work . . . 150

5.7 Final Thoughts . . . 151

Appendix A The Construction of The M-Word Engine 155 A.1 The User Interface . . . 155

A.2 The Production of the Real-time Score . . . 158

A.3 The Visual Presentation of the Real-time Score . . . 159

A.3.1 Instruction Display in the Main UI . . . 159

A.3.2 Instruction Display on a Smart-Phone . . . 159

A.3.3 Instruction Display on Another Computer . . . 161

A.4 Performer Interaction with the Real-time Score . . . 162

A.4.1 Building the Electronic Improviser . . . 165

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Free improvisation is not an action resulting from freedom; it is an action directed to- wards freedom.

Davey Williams (1984, p. 32), quoted in Borgo (2002, p. 165)

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Introduction: The Case for Intervention

1.1 Introduction

This thesis, and the portfolio of pieces that accompanies it, will seek to examine potential meeting points between improvisation (primarily ‘free’, but subsequently also through practices within limitations) and composition. An evaluation of the significance of such meeting points, which have been reached through experiments in notation, leadership and the use of new technologies, will be framed by key topics in the field of contemporary improvisation research, and will lead to a consideration of how new compositional practices might emerge from these theoretical bases.

In such considerations it is pertinent to ask to what end a composer can benefit a free improviser, or vice-versa. Why, for example, should a composer wish to leave any- thing to the choice of the performer? And equally, why should an improviser wish to be constrained by externally determined plans and structures? To examine such areas is to provoke strong feelings from both sides of this apparent spectrum. From the compositional perspective arises suspicions of a lack of control or diluting of aesthetic intention;

for example, Boulez is quoted in Attali (1985) as stating that:

‘Often, these improvisations are nothing more than pure, sometimes bizarre, samplings of sound that are not at all integrated into the directives of a composition. This results in constant arousal and appeasement, something I find intolerable’

(Attali, 1985, p. 146)

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1.1. INTRODUCTION 7

Alternatively, some free improvisers have labelled composition as an infringement into the creative freedom that their practice would seem to provide. Improvising percus- sionist Eddie Prévost has written extensively on what he sees as the political aspects of improvised and composed music, and describes the difference between the two in such terms:

‘A composed sound commands a different social priority. The musician is being requested to do something by another. Such an instruction may be considered restrictive and (if only in an abstract sense?) as oppressive. A collective improvisation is a freely interactive discourse. A composed work is – by contrast – an authoritarian one’ (Prévost, 2004, p. 20)

And yet, despite these opposing viewpoints, composers increasingly seek to work with experimental improvisers, and improvising performers actively seek out new pre- composed avenues for their creativity - from the 1971 collaboration between Don Cherry and Krysztof Penderecki, to the 2007 project by British composer Andrew Morgan and American free improviser Ken Vandermark. Also notable in this regard are improvisers turning to new notations, such as Wadada Leo Smith, and the work of improviser- conductors such as Butch Morris and Walter Thompson. Such collaborative and multi- disciplinary work indicates that there is a case to be made for compositional intervention within the practice of free improvisation, and it is this case for intervention which will be examined and elucidated in this introductory chapter. In order to contextualise this examination, it is first necessary to consider the historical circumstances which gave rise to the ‘freely’ improvised or ‘non-idiomatic’ improvisational practices which we know today, with a particular focus on the roots of the desire for such ‘freedom’.

The American free improviser and academic George Lewis separates the post-war search for improvisational liberty into two branches: ‘Afrological’ and ‘Eurological’. As will be shown in the following two sections, these two approaches are distinguished by the degree to which a performer’s ‘self’, including cultural and historical tendencies, can contribute to improvisational decision-making. This relationship is of prime importance to the research which follows, and Lewis’s terminology will form one of the key frameworks for considering subsequent theoretical stances.

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1.2 Afrological Improvisation

‘Afrological’ improvisation, according to Lewis, is characterised by a striving for freedom from commercial and racial oppression, as much as from musical traditions. The music known as ‘free jazz’, pioneered by Ornette Coleman, Don Cherry and others, was, according to Lewis, foreshadowed by the earlier emergence of ‘bebop’ in this regard, which ‘had a great deal to do with the assertion of self-determination with regard to their role as musical artists’ (Lewis, 1996, p. 95). He continues:

‘Challenging the assigned role of the jazz musician as entertainer created new possibilities for the construction of an African-American improvisative musicality that could define itself as explicitly experimental. This radical redefinition was viewed as a direct challenge, by extension, to the entire social order as it applied to blacks in 1940s apartheid America…’ (ibid., p. 95)

Lewis directly links experimentalism to a freedom from the perceived role of black musician as ‘entertainer’, positing it therefore as a social and (counter-) cultural assertion as much as a musical one. Entwined with this is the concept of the ‘narrative’ or communicative within jazz, carrying forward personal and cultural information through variation in and around the musical tradition. For example, jazz drummer Roy Haynes is quoted as saying, ‘I like to paint some sort of a picture…you know, tell a musical story according to how I feel’ (Monson, 2009, p. 86).

Examples of Afrological experimentalism might also be considered as communicative or signifying as regards their relationship to the broader idiom. As an example of this, the jazz pianist and academic Vijay Iyer quotes an exchange between John Coltrane and his side-men on the recording of the famous 1958 album Giant Steps: Coltrane voices some concern over the difficulty of the chord changes, saying ‘I ain’t goin be, tellin no story…Like…tellin them black stories’, but another musician responds, ‘Shoot. Really, you make the changes, that’ll tell’em a story’ (Iyer, 2004, p. 394). Ingrid Monson refers to this kind of stylistic signification as ‘metapragmatics’ (after the anthropologist Michael Silverstein), explaining that, ‘the perception of stylistic (dis)continuities, as well as the more obvious example of explicit quotation, turns exactly on this indexical and hence highly pragmatic aspect of musical communication’ (Monson, 2009, p. 188).

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1.3. EUROLOGICAL IMPROVISATION 9

1.3 Eurological Improvisation

Eurological improvisation, by contrast, is characterised by Lewis as containing ‘a notion of spontaneity that excludes history or memory’. Born out of the influence of the Eu- ropean post-war avant-garde, American experimentalism, as pioneered by John Cage, Earl Brown and Christian Wolff, gave rise to ‘indeterminate’ and ‘aleatoric’ music. Whilst avoiding connections with the world of ‘improvisation’ (perhaps, Lewis suggests, for racial reasons), this kind of music making sought freedom from the domination of any traditional musical forms by utilising spontaneity and chance in performance. Louis An- driessen makes note of this: ‘That was one of the ways in which modernism could free itself from the rules of serialism, by using graphic notation, and ad libitum instructions.

But I don’t think it had much influence on the culture of improvisation’ (Uitti, 2006b, p. 543).

This manner of spontaneity is intended, as per its avant-garde European roots, to be a-historical; Lewis writes, ‘in this regard, “real” improvisation is often described in terms of eliminating reference to “known” styles’ (Lewis, 1996, p. 107). It was this approach which would also come to be associated with the ‘Non-idiomatic Improvisation’ of some European improvisers, particularly that of guitarist Derek Bailey. In describing this practice Bailey writes, ‘non-idiomatic improvisation…is most usually found in so-called ‘free’

improvisation and, while it can be highly stylised, is not usually tied to representing an idiomatic identity’ (Bailey, 1993, p. xii).

Cage held a well documented scepticism towards ‘improvisation’ (as opposed to ‘indeterminacy’ or ‘chance’) because of its accommodation of the will of the performer;

for example, he is quoted by Kostelanetz as saying, ‘what I would like to find is an improvisation that is not descriptive of the performer, but is descriptive of what happens, and which is characterized by an absence of intention’ (Lewis, 1996, p. 118). Sabine Feisst elaborates on this in her account of Cage’s attitude to improvisation, writing that

‘he did not want to encourage common habits, subjective and ultimately predictable acts, among improvising performers’ (Feisst, 2009, p. 45). In the same article Feisst also quotes from a letter sent from Cage to Leonard Bernstein regarding a concert in which Cage’s works, as well of those of Morton Feldman and Earle Brown, were to be performed alongside an orchestral free improvisation; he writes:

‘Improvisation is not related to what the three of us are doing in our works. It gives free play to the exercise of taste and memory, and it is exactly this that we, in differing ways, are not doing in our music.’ (ibid., p. 45)

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Other commentators have echoed this distinction, such as Love who explains, ‘Cage attempts to remove conscious human intention from the roles of the composer and the performer. He aims at nonintentionality. This is not the same as improvisation’ (Love, 2006, p. 30).

Cage clearly dismisses improvised musical practice as insufficient in distancing the self of the performer from the music, and similar sentiments have been heard from other post-war composers; English bassist Gavin Bryars famously turned away from improvising to focus on composition, stating that ‘in any improvising position the person creating the music is identified with the music.... It’s like standing a painter next to his picture so that every time you see the painting you see the painter as well and you can’t see it without him’ (Lewis, 1996, p. 115). This key characteristic of the Eurological approach stands contrasted to the Afrological desire for personal and cultural self-determination, as Lewis succinctly states: ‘it is unsurprising, therefore, that from an ex-slave’s point of view an insistence on being free from memory might be regarded with some suspicion - as either a form of denial or of disinformation’ (ibid., p. 109).

We can summarise, therefore, that according to Lewis ‘free’ improvisation is divided by an appropriation of the self; Afrologic places the expression of the self, as well as all its cultural history, at the centre of the musical practice, whilst Eurologic seeks explicitly to avoid completely the preformed desires of the performer.

An overly simplistic but potentially useful comparison can be made here: Eurologic with ‘composition’, and Afrologic with ‘improvisation’. The composed in this case represents a hypothetical complete ‘exactness’ of musical command, one in which the performer can have absolutely no personal influence on the result, whilst the improvised is created purely from the whim of the performer, with no external influence to provide limitation. It is within this hypothetical framework that the following research will consider various compositional and improvisational boundaries.

1.4 The Problem of ‘Freedom’

Immediately, however, a question must be posed as to what extent these two approaches are feasible as distinct ideologies; whether Cagean ‘nonintentionality’ is achievable for

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1.4. THE PROBLEM OF ‘FREEDOM’ 11

a human performer, or if the Afrological desire for a self-determined experimentalism is viable without some external influence. It can be argued that these two opposing approaches are in fact interdependent, despite the commitment of their respective practi- tioners.

This argument is supported primarily by a reflection on how both ‘non-idiomatic improvisation’ and ‘free jazz’ have become increasingly stylised through the course of their development and repetition. Emergent characteristics such as atonality, lack of rhythm, and the exploitation of extremes of instrumental technique and dynamic, suggest a level of continuity between performances which stands in opposition to the ‘ahistorical’ freedom of the Eurological perspective. Exceptions to this have arisen from those performers who have found a unique personal approach through the exploration of exceptional extended technique (such as Evan Parker, Cecil Taylor, Peter Brötzmann and others) or the embracing of technology (particularly amongst pianists such as John Tilbury). How- ever, the emergence of figureheads in this way, as well as the precedents they establish, is again problematic for both Afrological self-determinism and Eurological ahistoricity.

Both of these observations suggest the presence of a cohering process, in which the establishment of new stylistic avenues (Eurological - composed) in turn creates precedential rules for personal exploration (Afrological). This outlook is supported by academic research into the psychology of improvisational practice, which indicates the importance of rule formation and realisation therein. One of the most thorough examina- tions of this perspective is Jeff Pressing’s extensive 1988 article ‘Improvisation: Methods and Models’, in which he describes a complete model of consequential idea generation and interruption which is based on rules, modelling and decision making. Such rules are heuristically and physiologically constrained:

‘Rule models describe the common features shared by a set of rules which form the basis for a ‘production system’. If the improvising musician is the production system, the important rules will be largely heuristic and the rules about rules may be termed metaheuristics. Some of these will be culturally and historically based, while others presumably reflect intrinsic properties of the human thinking appara- tus.’ (Pressing, 1988, p. 152)

This outlook can also be found in academic writing concerning improvisation within other fields; for example, it is succinctly summarised by the philosopher Andrew Haas in relation to the role that improvisation plays in the formation of language:

‘Improvisation does not just mean free-play (of subjective imagination or ob-

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jective selection); it is neither simply ‘extemporaneously doing your own thing’ nor

‘spontaneously riffing on a theme’ (for it is not opposed to composition); but nor is it merely a Heideggerian way of being-in-the-world that feels around for that which is present-to-hand, nor a way of transcending or displacing metaphysics. Rather, following Aristotle, improvising means: self-schematising, auto-schediazein, the action that gives itself its schema – for it is not originally aesthetic, but if it is aesthetic, it is because art too (like philosophy, like science and ethics) comes out of self-schematisation.’ (Haas, 2012, p. 341)

Improvisers of varying traditions and approaches have also acknowledged such rule formation within their practice. Prévost recognises this very point when he writes,

‘whereas in free improvisation there may be no recognisable expression of an idiom, there might well be an underlying method or structure – and it is the pursuit of, or an en- gagement with, this structure and method that may well be more important than any determination not to be caught up in other practices’ (Prévost, 2004, p. 14). Fred Rzewski even goes as far as to suggest that improvisation ‘always has rules and a framework.

There is no such thing as a ‘free’ improvisation’ (Rzewski, 2006, p. 494).

Testaments from Afrological experimentalism also suggest issues arising from un- controlled ‘freedom’, for example Dyer recounts an instance of Charles Mingus tak- ing part in an experimental improvisation: ‘You can’t improvise on nothing, man, he’d said shaking his head at the shambles around him. You gotta improvise on something’

(Fischlin, 2010, p. 2). Drummer Elvin Jones echoes this viewpoint when he states that

‘there’s no such thing as freedom without some kind of control, at least self-control or self-discipline... Coltrane did a lot of experimenting in that direction... even though it gave an impression of freedom, it was basically a well thought out and highly disciplined piece of work’ (Lewis, 1996, p. 114).

These outlooks pose a problem to the notions of both Euro and Afrological ‘freedom’

in improvisation, suggesting that we, as listeners and performers, ‘self-schematise’ our sonic environment – a necessary formation of idiomatic rules in order to cohere a non- idiomatic sound-world. The implication of this is that a truly non-idiomatic improvised music must continually be in a state of flux, inconsistent from one performance to the next, if not from moment to moment, and therefore resistant to schematisation. Derek Bailey, reflecting this, highlights one of the key attractions of the practice, but also its greatest challenge to performers, when he states that ‘diversity is its most consistent characteristic’ (Bailey, 1993, p. 83); the irony of this position is that this rule becomes a constant, and so indicates an idiomatic schematisation of the practice itself. Adorno, whose writing is so closely linked to the European avant-garde, seems to summarise

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1.5. ANOTHER APPROACH: CREATIVE DISPLACEMENT 13

this problem in the following passage from ‘Minima Moralia’:

‘Knowledge has no light but that shed on the world by redemption: all else is reconstruction, mere technique. Perspectives must be fashioned that displace and estrange the world, reveal it to be, with its rifts and crevices, as indigent and dis- torted as it will appear one day in the messianic light.

…

But it is also the utterly impossible thing, because it presumes a standpoint re- moved, even though by a hair’s breadth, from the scope of existence, whereas we well know that any possible knowledge must not only be first wrested from what is, if it shall hold good, but is also marked, for this very reason, by the same distortion and indigence it seeks to escape’ (Adorno (1951), quoted in Smith (2010, p. 126))

1.5 Another Approach: Creative Displacement

It has been suggested, then, that whilst Lewis’s Afro and Eurological approaches are useful in the formation of a hypothetical framework for understanding approaches to

‘freedom’, they are not exclusively practicable, existing instead on a continuum of inter- dependence.

However, from the construction of a more mainstream strand of jazz comes an indication of another approach, one in which a (potentially abstract) pre-composed musical element is introduced into an improvised musical environment in order to shift the performer in a new direction, and therefore temporarily ‘free’ them to explore new possibilities: this is the role of the ‘backing’ or ‘background figure’ in big band music (specific examples of which will be considered in the following chapter of this thesis). Berliner describes these as ‘dramatic changes in rhythmic accompaniment, like changes occurring in arranged horn riffs, elaborate background lines, and harmonies, [which] build variation into each performance’s larger structure and provide different impulses to stimulate the imagination of soloists’ (Berliner, 1994, p. 300).

These musical instances are rare examples of where a fully through-composed musical element interrupts or interacts with an improvised line, creating a change in an improviser’s musical situation and forcing a re-appraisal of the creative problem at hand.

This stimulation must, at least when first encountered, be comparable to a Cagean indeterminate element: unforeseen, and yet potentially indicative of a new sonic schematisation through its interpretation by the performer. The fulfilment of this potentiality, and management of the indication of new schematisations, is a process that will become of

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key importance in the research that follows, and following Adorno’s concept of ‘perspectives...that displace and estrange the world’, will henceforth be referred to in this thesis as ‘creative displacement’.

It is within this process that the case for compositional intervention in freely improvised music can be made: as an unpredictable interjection which can serve as a stimulus for novel improvised action, simultaneously connecting performer and composer as performative and compositional collaborators. In this way, the ‘creative displacement’ can acknowledge both Afro and Eurological approaches to improvisational ‘freedom’, as the performer has no control over the composed changes they encounter (Eurological), but has complete control over their response to them (Afrological). Imperative to the effec- tiveness of this approach will be not only the form and content of such ‘displacements’, but also their manner of delivery and ongoing management; it is these aspects which will form the central investigations of this research.

The forthcoming chapters will evaluate three different approaches to ‘creative displacement’, alongside a discussion of several relevant areas of significance in contemporary improvisation research. The second chapter will consider the composition of several pieces for big band, in which composed backings interact with improvisation within varying levels of notational limitation. Through a reflection on the implementation of these pieces with the Mirrors of Hall big band, including analyses of the rehearsal process and development of specific notational approaches, this chapter will examine theoretical associations between improvisation and non-linear systems or ‘chaos’ theory. The question will be asked to what extent composed materials can interfere with an improvisatory ‘system’, and whether such interference is enough to cause as a ‘displacement’ of improvisational choices, provoking a performer towards exploration of unfamiliar creative responses.

The third chapter investigates the possibilities afforded by technology for creating

‘displacing’ forms of notation, and evaluates a practical application of this in the form of the ’M-Word Engine’ - a semi-random real-time score system for improvisers. This is framed by a comparison with key concepts from the writings of the philosophers Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, whose philosophy has been closely associated with both systems theory and the dynamics of improvised music. The metaphysics which they outlines in works such as ‘A Thousand Plateaus’ will provide a second framework for a potential model of ‘creative displacement’, and will be applied and tested in the creation of indeterminate improvisational scores within the aforementioned system.

Finally, the fourth chapter will present a practical model of ‘creatively displacing’ leadership, with examples drawn from two school-based workshop composition projects and

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1.5. ANOTHER APPROACH: CREATIVE DISPLACEMENT 15

the collaborative pieces created therein. This practical work will shed light on a surrounding investigation of how leadership can interact with creative novelty or difference, examining the psychological implications of exploratory improvisation such as groove, entrainment and risk.

Throughout all of the following chapters there will be documented examples of how these theoretical approaches have been tested in workshop pieces and compositions by the author, including those that make up the submitted portfolio and appendices.

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Displacement Through Composition

Reflection before a performance. A musical score is a logical construct inserted into the mess of potential sounds that permeate this planet and its atmosphere.

That puts Beethoven and the rest in perspective!

Cornelius Cardew, Treatise Handbook (1970, p. vii)

2.1 Non-Linear Dynamic Systems and Self Organisation

2.1.1 Introduction

This chapter will seek to examine how pre-composed backings in big band music might affect improvisatory action in a manner described in the previous chapter as ‘creative displacement’. It will be asked whether the changes to the musical environment which are affected by such composed materials can present the improviser with novel avenues for exploration, and whether such novelty can be sustained through rehearsals and performance.

The adaptation of improvising musicians to sudden changes is documented by Ingrid Monson in her book ‘Saying Something: Jazz Improvisation and Interaction’ (Monson, 2009). She suggests that ‘at any given moment in a performance, the improvising artist is always making musical choices in relationship to what everyone else is doing’ (ibid.,

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2.1. NON-LINEAR DYNAMIC SYSTEMS AND SELF ORGANISATION 17

p. 27); also, particularly in relation to the rhythm section, she writes that ‘they must listen closely because they are continually called upon to respond to and participate in an ongoing flow of musical action that can change or surprise them at any moment’

(ibid., p. 43).

Following this framework of interaction, therefore, it can be supposed that an improviser may react to composed elements in a similar way, and, in a jazz setting, the rhythm section will respond to the changes by the improviser. Arguably, under certain circumstances these changes in the rhythm section may affect the performance of the written backings themselves, establishing a performative ‘feedback loop’ back to the soloist.

As was mentioned in the previous chapter, an important historical precedent for such interaction can be found in big band music, and several examples of this will be examined throughout this chapter. The first case study below represents one of the most common shapes of big band backings: starting quietly before gradually building up in volume, register and instrumentation, and often resulting in the soloist’s improvisation following a similar shape. Within this it will be useful to consider significant moments of interaction between the soloist, rhythm section and composed backings, and the degree to which it can be said that changes in one part affected a noticeable change in another.

Case Study: Interaction within Big Bands - example 1

‘So What’ fromIn My Timeby the Gerald Wilson Orchestra: Tenor Saxophone solo by Kamasi Washington (see audio example 1)

The very beginning of the saxophone solo presents an interesting case of inter- action between the soloist and an instrument in the rhythm section, in this case the guitar. The soloist begins broadly with a soft repeated riff at a relaxed pace, which is mirrored by a spacious chordal accompaniment in the guitar. With the chord change to E minor, after 16 bars (0’15”), comes a shift in the guitar part to a more upbeat repeated rhythmic pattern; 4 bars after this change (0’19”) the soloist appears to respond with a faster pace and higher pitch range, occasionally aligning himself rhythmically with the guitar (0’20”). When the underlying chord changes back to E♭

(0’23”) the soloist begins his own repeated rhythmic pattern around that of the guitar, which also recalls the opening of the solo through the emphasis of the 9th (F). This latter motif of the soloist can perhaps be seen, therefore, as the transformation of the saxophonist’s opening idea, having undergone the rhythmic changes introduced by the guitar.

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The first entry of the brass backings (0’30”) provides an opportunity to evaluate the effect of these composed elements on the action of the soloist. The backings, characterised by a snappy offbeat rhythm extended with a long note, are immediately responded to by the soloist with a contrasting stream of quavers - this shift is also mirrored by the drummer, who now accents the 4th beat of each bar with a rim-shot on the snare drum. However, perhaps in response to the insistence of the repeating backings, the soloist subsequently transforms his string of quavers into a repeated rhythmic figure that moves upwards in pitch (0’38”).

Whilst it is problematic to establish a direct link of cause and effect between back- ing and soloist in the preceding example, an examination of the remainder of this 32-bar chorus suggests that the level of repetition in the backings has a similar effect on the soloist throughout the rest of the solo. For example, the chorus is charac- terised by a similar shift between dextrous strings of quavers (0’49”) and repeating patterns that rhythmically align with the backings (0’54”); this effect is even more pronounced in the third chorus of the solo (1’00”), during which the previous brass backings return with greater intensity an octave higher, and, significantly, the solo is constructed almost entirely of short repeated figures. It could be argued, therefore, that there is a correlation between the textural prominence of the repeating backings and the level of repetition present in the solo. This hypothesis is strengthened by a comparison of this recording to other solos by Kamasi Washington from the same album which are notably less repetitious (for example, compare his solo in ‘A.E.N.’, which is included as audio example 2 alongside this thesis).

It can also be argued that the soloist’s tone and use of extended techniques is affected by not only the pitch and rhythmic material of the backings, but also through their structuring. This is particularly evident at the final upward chord shift 16 bars into the third chorus (1’15”): just before this point (from 1’00” onwards), both the soloist and backings have already reached an exciting climax of register and dynamic, and accordingly the soloist can only match the further increase in intensity through the use of extended techniques such as growling, detuning and use of the altissimo register. This is immediately evident in the high E and F (1’17”) that closely follow this chord change, and the even higher B♭shortly after that (1’27”).

Whilst this specific change in backing is a harmonic one, it is arguably the relent- less drive towards increasing intensity throughout the orchestration and voicing of the backings that pushes the soloist towards this exploration of extended techniques and extremes of register. Another comparison with Washington’s solo on ‘A.E.N.’

would seem to support this hypothesis, in which, whilst there is some use of reg-

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Figure 2.1:Melodic Range Spectrogram of the tenor saxophone solo by Kamasi Washington, on ‘So What’ fromIn My Timeby the Gerald Wilson Orchestra.

isteral and technical extremes, the backings lack the same growth of intensity and therefore do not elicit the same degree of exploration from the soloist. Figure 2.1 is a melodic range spectrum^aanalysis of the solo from the recording, which enables a graphic representation of the upward intensifying movement in both the ensemble writing and Washington’s solo. Such spectral analyses are well suited to illustrat- ing large-scale changes of texture and register over time, and will be used for this purpose throughout this thesis.

aAll spectrograms incorporated into this thesis were produced using ‘Sonic Visualiser’; for more information see http://www.sonicvisualiser.org/doc/reference/1.0/en/

2.1.2 Systems, Complexity and Chaos

From this example it can be seen that there are different levels of interaction occurring between the musicians and the composed backings; specifically, these are interactive relationships in which changes in one part can subsequently affect each of the others in unpredictable ways, be it specific rhythmic or gestural alignments (such as between the saxophone and guitar), or more cumulative structural influences (such as the rising register and repetition).

It is from this starting point, regarding the interaction of improvising performers, that contemporary academic discussion on improvisation has introduced parallels with ‘systems theory’, in particular ‘non-linear’ systems and the associated ideas of ‘chaos’ and

‘emergence’. By relating an ensemble of improvising musicians to a system of connected nodes that affect each other through the exchanging of information, it becomes possible to analyse the ensemble’s dynamics with models borrowed from scientific and

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mathematical disciplines; key writers in this area include David Borgo, Stephen Nach- manovitch, Alfonso Montuori and Robert Keith Sawyer.

Perhaps the most useful starting point for such comparisons, however, is the defini- tion of ‘information’ given by Gregory Bateson, one of the most prominent figures in the early history of ‘systems theory’:

‘A “bit” of information is definable as a difference which makes a difference.

Such a difference, as it travels and undergoes successive transformation in a cir- cuit, is an elementary idea.’ (Bateson, 1987, p. 321)

A change in one part of the system, therefore, affects other parts of the system and so becomes an ‘idea’, embodying the culmination of a series of changes which is ir- reversible and irreducible, and becoming, through transformation, an emergent entity distinct from the differences that shaped it. A system’s interaction with greater numbers of external influences increases the complexity of the changes that take place, as David Borgo writes: ‘Complex systems are those in which the future emerges out of the interaction of innumerable forces, each leaving its indelible trace on the course of events’

(Borgo, 2005, p. 62).

Such systems are referred to as ‘dynamic’, as the input of external differences feeds through the system and leads to an emergent change in the nature of the system itself. Crucially, these large-scale changes can also create differences for other inter- connected systems, leading to a continuous ‘domino-effect’ from the micro to the macro level and back again; in this way, the resulting changes become increasingly unrecog- nisable from the original difference. This continuous disorder within systems is what came to be defined by James Gleick (1987) as ‘chaos theory’, and is most simply summarised in the frequently cited concept that a butterfly can flap its wings in one part of the world and subsequently change the weather in another (Kauffman, 1996, p. 17).

However, the unpredictability of these changes can mean that, under the right conditions, areas of stability can be established within a chaotic system; the study of this phenomenon has given rise to ‘complexity theory’. Borgo describes the difference between ‘chaos’ and ‘complexity’ in his 2005 book ‘Sync or Swarm’:

‘Put another way, chaos theory deals with systems that rapidly become highly disordered and unmanageable, while complexity theory deals with highly inter- connected systems that may, at certain times and under certain conditions, self- organise in a way that produces emergent forms of order.’ (Borgo, 2005, p. 84)

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The evolutionary-biologist Stuart Kauffman gives the useful example of a whirlpool in a bathtub to illustrate this kind of emergence. He describes such systems as ‘nonequi- librium structures’, explaining that ‘once formed, the non-equilibrium swirl can be stable for long periods if water is continuously added to the tub and the drain is left open’;

because of this ‘continuous dissipation of matter and energy’ they can also be called

‘dissipative structures’ (Kauffman, 1996, pp. 20-21).

Relating such dynamics to the intake and output of energy by living cells, Kauffman writes that ‘equilibrium corresponds to death’ and proposes therefore that ‘life exists at the edge of chaos’ (ibid., p. 21) - balanced between the threat of equilibrium from a lack of external input, or tipping over into a chaotic state due to an excess of external disruption. He uses the example of nuclear explosion compared to a nuclear reaction: the former is allowed to run away in an explosive chain reaction, whereas the latter is held at a continuous ‘sub-critical/supra-critical boundary’ (ibid., p. 129). Complexity researcher Alfonso Montuori sums up the balance between these extremes:

‘Organization without disorder leads to a sterile, homogenous system where no change and innovation is possible. Complete disorder without order precludes organisation. Only with the interaction of order and disorder, is an organization possible that remains open to change, growth, and possibilities.’ (Montuori, 2008, p. xxxiii)

The opposite poles of order and disorder are also perhaps comparable to this thesis’s opening comparison between Eurological ‘Composition’ and Afrological ‘Improvisation’;

a balance between the two, therefore, is perhaps found in music which straddles the

‘edge of chaos’ boundary.

In the following example, it is arguable that an ‘edge of chaos’ balance of order and disorder is achieved in the solo improvisation through responses to a diverse range of composed backings. Some of these are sudden and unexpected, and help to create and sustain new areas of exploration for the soloist throughout. Accordingly, the following example will be considered in the appropriately systemic terms of order, disorder and the movement of ‘energy’ within the improvisational system.

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‘Monterey Suite: 1. Bring it On’ fromOvertimeby the Dave Holland Big Band:

Tenor Saxophone solo by Chris Potter (see audio example 3)

In this case study it will be considered how the music could be seen as a system which moves on a spectrum between more ordered and more chaotic passages, depending on the reaction of the soloist and rhythm section to the backings. Disorder will be defined here as a difference, either within a given texture or across a period of time, which is significant in relativity to its surroundings; such a difference might be found in one aspect of the music (for example harmony, rhythm or dynamics), or across several characteristic areas. In this way it will be possible to evaluate how, in Gregory Bateson’s terms, such a ‘difference’ might then ‘make a difference’ to other parts of the ensemble, and whether the ensuing interactional system can be described as nearing the ‘edge of chaos’.

From this perspective, the beginning of the solo might be seen as establishing a strong feeling of order. For example, sustained trombone backings at first seem to establish a stable centre around which the rhythm section creates a more fluid rhythmic framework. The correspondingly broad and melodic style of the improvis- ing soloist might be seen as strengthening this order; however, the introduction of shorter backing riffs in the trumpets (0’19”), acting as a countermelody to the sus- tained trombones, appears to disturb this. This disturbance could then be seen as manifesting itself in the improvisation through two upward arpeggiated phrases (0’23”), gesturally disordered by comparison to the more melodic material that pre- ceded them, and then further into a rapid and undulating line of semiquavers (0’30”).

Within this example, therefore, a Batesonian ‘difference that makes a difference’

might be identified in the introduction of the trumpets to the backings, causing the soloist to stretch the established gestural and textural order, although perhaps not to the extent that this could be described as near the hypothetical ‘edge of chaos’

given the continuation of the underlying harmonic and metric order.

This balance is arguably reached in the next example, however, which could be seen as a continued development of the previous disruption. The soloist leads into a repeated cross-rhythmic motif which is immediately copied by the drums and bass (0’35”), arguably creating, in systemic terms, a new emergent order against which the subsequent sustained saxophone backings become a marked chaotic element. Although still secured by underlying harmonic connections, these cross- rhythms seem to create a metric ‘edge of chaos’ in which the downbeat becomes

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unclear; this in turn leads to a greater feeling of ambiguity in the groove of the drums and the harmony of the saxophone improvisation (c.0’49”).

Further on in the solo, (1’14”) the sudden absence of the brass backings appears to result in an exploration of complex harmonic and rhythmic patterns between the saxophone, drums and bass, in the midst of which the vibraphone chords maintain a sole point of harmonic order. In this example, it could be argued that the sud- den disappearance of the backings creates a textural disorder, triggering a cascade of changes in the improvisation of the soloist and rhythm section as both seek to negotiate coherence in the sudden influx of energy, and leading to what might be described as an ’edge of chaos’ system. Following this, the bass and drums estab- lish a ‘double-time’ feel (1’31”) and the saxophone improvisation returns to a more familiar bebop style, possibly indicating a reestablishment of a new order following the previous disturbance.

Following their reintroduction, (1’48”) the backings grow in prominence and co- hesion, arguably creating an increasingly stable core around which the soloist and rhythm section move. The saxophone moves closer in style to the backings, incor- porating longer repeated notes and sequential riffs (c. 2’07”), and, for the first time, drawing melodic material directly from the trombone backings (2’13”); this could be seen as reinforcing the order established by the backings. The backings reach a climax with the inclusion of all the brass and saxophones, to which the soloist re- sponds with a dramatic swirling chromatic shape that is quickly mimicked in the drums (2’23”), perhaps indicating a textural disorder created by the intensifying en- semble instrumentation.

However, the sudden shift from a ‘double-time’ to ‘single-time’ groove (2’34”) appears to cause the soloist to launch dramatically into the altissimo register; this suggests that the disturbance of the temporal and metric order, that had been so strongly established previously, might have created a sudden and significant disor- der within the system. When the backings suddenly stop (2’39”) the soloist begins to explore wild atonal jumps and altissimo squawks, perhaps indicating that the pre- vious disorder has become magnified and has created a further degree of textural chaos. Following this, the reintroduction of the backings shortly after (2’47”) leads the saxophone back to a more ordered bluesy harmonic language (2’52”), and there- fore appears to reestablish order in the system.

It can be seen from this example how an improvisation within a big band can be analysed in terms of the interaction of order and disorder, with composed interjections

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able to exert both ordering and disordering influences on the ongoing improvisation depending on their content and relationship with the emerging improvised material. The following sub-section will further examine the nature of how elements order themselves, a process known in complex-systems theory as ‘self-organisation’.

2.1.3 Self-Organisation

In the continued consideration of how improvisation within big bands might be illumi- nated by a comparison with complex systems theory, it will be valuable to consider the processes by which new orders within such systems might emerge.

Through the ‘edge of chaos’ balance of order and disorder, coherent areas of stability establish and dissipate themselves in a continuous loop, with novel outcomes feeding into novel contexts for new outcomes. Such systems are described as ‘self- organising’; they are autonomous and ‘auto-catalytic’, continually reproducing new and unpredictable emergent structures from the interaction of its parts in relation to a con- stantly shifting environment.

Weber and Varela offer the term ‘autopoietic’ to describe such dynamics:

‘An autopoietic system is organized (defined as unity) as a network of processes of production (synthesis and destruction) of components such that these components:

1. continuously regenerate the network that is producing them, and

2. constitute the system as a distinguishable unity in the domain in which they exist’

(Weber and Varela, 2002, p. 115)

Morin suggests the term ‘Self-eco-re-organisation’: ‘eco’ because the environment in which the system changes is the source of the external information that changes it, and ‘re’ because the process is continuous and ongoing (Montuori, 2008, p. xxxv).

Kauffman’s 1996 book ‘At Home in the Universe’ investigates the nature and dynamics of this phenomenon; one of the key concepts he outlines is that of ‘attractors’ - particular characteristics which, due to the nature of the surrounding environment or the limitations of the system itself, become a focus for a self-organised structure (Kauffman, 1996, pp. 78-79) (as will be shown, this concept is a potent one for use in the analysis of improvised music). Even small or weak attractors can create pockets of order within a large system, but these may be destabilised by significant changes from external influences (for example, the movement of water across an almost-flat surface, such as that

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shown in Figure 2.2b); equally, the effect of too strong an attractor will overrule other external influences, locking the development of the system into one rigid formation (in the terms of the previous example, this might be considered to be the same water flow- ing downhill into a lake, for example Figure 2.2a - illustrations of this kind have led to these attractors also being known as ‘basins of attraction’). Again, the importance here is placed on the balance between the ‘sub-critical’ and ‘supra-critical’, order and disorder: a system with no attractor, such as in Figure 2.2c, is chaotic and unpredictable, whereas a strong attractor like Figure 2.2a can create an overly rigid order.

.

(a)Strong attractor

.

(b)Weak attractor

.

(c)No attractor Figure 2.2:Graphic examples of ‘basins of attraction’

Through the ongoing analogy between improvisation and complex systems, changes in a musical environment might also be considered as creating attractors, as they can lead improvisers to re-organise their action in a particular direction through the establishment of a particularly ‘attracting’ degree of order within the system. The strength of these attractors, which could, for example, be harmonic, rhythmic, timbral or gestural, may depend on aspects such as their volume, repetition and register; as will be considered later in this chapter, however, such an outlook may prove to be overly Eurological, with other more personal factors also needing consideration. The establishment of an overly strong attractor, as described above, may prove to be too rigid to be productive and leave improvisers without new avenues for investigation, whilst an attractor which is too weak might be ineffective in establishing order and lead to chaos.

It has already been stated, at the start of this chapter, that the ‘comping’ rhythm section players in a jazz setting are equally alert to changes in their environment as an improvising soloist, and so for the purposes of this ongoing comparison it can be suggested that musical attractors are equally potent for ‘comping’ musicians. The following case study will show an alternative relationship between soloists and backings, one that brings into question the boundaries of the ‘rhythm section’ and its role within a big band;

in doing so it also illustrates how this extended improvising group self-organises itself, moving around and in-between complex backings which act as attractors in the musical system.

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‘Liberty City’ from Invitation by Jaco Pastorius (and the Word of Mouth Big Band): improvisation throughout (see audio example 4)

This case study will illustrate how precomposed backings might be seen as hav- ing varying levels of ’attracting’ force for improvisers playing over and around them.

In adopting this perspective, certain comparisons can be drawn with the previous case study which might illuminate the conceptual application of ’attractors’ in a mu- sical analysis: as will be shown, it might be said that a strong attractor, which leads to the establishment of order, is equivalent to a lack of ’difference’, whilst weak at- tractors exhibit greater variation and allow a system to slip towards chaos. As with the previous case study, hypothetical levels of order and disorder will be considered in terms of variation within one or more musical parameters (including, for exam- ple, register, dynamics and harmony); however, unlike the previous case study, this example will consider broader emergent levels of attraction across larger structural sections of the piece, facilitated by its overtly block-based structure (as shown in Figure 2.3).

Whereas in previous examples there has been one soloist improvising against a background provided by the rhythm section and brass/woodwind, in this exam- ple there are two melodic players (Randy Brecker on trumpet and Bob Mintzer on soprano saxophone) who improvise throughout, effectively acting as an extension of the rhythm section. The rhythm section itself also contains other melodic instru- ments - Toots Thielman on harmonica and Othello Molineaux on steel drums - as well as percussion, drums and Pastorius on bass.

The piece moves between open expanses of group improvisation from this ex- tended rhythm section, and fully composed material for the whole ensemble over which Brecker and Mintzer take turns to maintain a continuous improvised line.

In the sections of group improvisation there are no written backings, and the im- provisers appear to move around near-chaotically, only occasionally self-organising into discernible mimetic relationships. This might suggest that the system is operat- ing near the edge of chaos here: Pastorius’s bass riff, twinned with the underlying drum groove, creates a strong harmonic and rhythmic attractor, but it is weakened by the sparsity of the texture the two can produce. Therefore, it could be said that the only ‘attractors’ present, besides the underlying order of Pastorius’s repeating bass riff, are created from moments of fleeting gestural and registeral mimicry between